Page 13 of Bloom

“What about you?”

I raise my brows as I toss the end of my lunch in the trash. “What about me?”

“What did you do last night?”

“Nothing much.” I don't think watching an old season ofAloneand passing out before midnight would qualify as a riveting night in Nova's book.

“No hot date?”

As if.“Nope.” When Nova sighs her disappointment, I echo the noise. “I don't have time for dates.”

“You don't have time or you don't want to?”

My nose wrinkles. “Both?”

“Why not?”

Where do I start? Being completely and utterly socially hopeless is probably a good jumping off point. Living in a small town where the dating pool is limited to people I went to highschool with is another major drawback. Not being interested is an excellent point too, though I’m not sure I can voice that one with any real conviction.

“You should try,” Nova presses. “You’re too pretty to waste away in here.”

If I wasn’t so pathetically caught up on her calling mepretty, I would maybe point out the problematic nature behind saying being single at my age iswasting away. Although, I guess when you’re barely nineteen, almost-twenty-three does seem pretty ancient. “Drop it, Nova.”

“One date,” she pleads. “Just one. If you hate it, I'll never mention anything again.”

I recognize that look on her face. The pleading, dog-with-a-bone relentless look that indicates she’s not going to give up easily, and I internally whine at the sight of it.

I’m self-aware enough to admit I’m a pushover. Self-deprecating enough to know it’s a weak, pitiful quality. Self-catastrophizing enough to fear if I don’t give in, Nova’s disappointment will be so great, she’ll immediately end our friendship and never speak to me again. The terrible combination works awfully quickly, inconveniently efficient as it urges me to give in and date whoever Nova wants me to, if only to please her.

The bell above the front door jingling saves me from myself. I breathe a sigh of relief but it’s quick to catch, my stomachclenching as Lux strides into the store. An unhappy Lux. An ‘I have a bone to pick with you’ Lux, which is exactly what she says after tossing a greeting Nova’s way.

Mustering up my best attempt at a breezy smile, I pretend to not notice her glare. “What’s up?”

Lux jerks her head towards the staircase. She doesn’t give me time to object, marching up there with me on her heels trying and failing to stop her, entering the room I didn’t tell her I moved into before I can come up with an excuse as towhy.

She comes up short when she trips over a pair of shoes, frowning at the offending fluffy pink slippers. At the pajamas crumpled on the floor beside them, too. Then at the tattered woolen blanket strewn messily across the bed, and I wonder if her frown deepens because she’s putting things together, or if it’s because she recognizes it as her little sister’s handiwork.

It’s the former, I decide, when that pinched face swings to me. “You live here?”

Crap.

Frozen on the top step, I use both hands to shove my burgeoning panic aside, and try very hard to execute an unbothered shrug. “Yup.”

There. That’s it. Casual. Not a big deal.

“Since when?”

“Not long.” Narrowed eyes call bull, but at least this, I don’t have to lie about. “A little less than a month.”

“Why?”

I shrug again as I saunter casually—or at least Itryto saunter casually—further into the apartment. Leaning against the kitchenette counter, I scramble for a subject change. “Did you wanna talk about something?”

Holding my breath, I wait to see if she’ll let me get away with it, or if she’ll push. My money’s on the latter, so it’s an overwhelming relief when she surprises me. “Come over later?”

“I didn’t forget.” How could I? It’s a big day at the ranch—there’s an old storage barn that needs cleaning out to make room for more horse stalls. Lux asked me to help out weeks ago, and I even dusted off my old western-style work boots for the occasion. Yeehaw, and all that.

Lux shakes her head. “No, I mean after. Stay for dinner. We can watch a movie or something. I need to be around someone who isn’t related to me, working for me, or monosyllabic.”

---